


Alternate Views

by The_Blue_Fenix



Series: Her Middleman [5]
Category: The Middleman (TV)
Genre: F/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:49:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Blue_Fenix/pseuds/The_Blue_Fenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first chapter of my nearby "Finding Middle Ground" from the Middleman's and Ida's points of view respectively. I don't expect to 're-imagine' any further chapters but this much was fun. Published February 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Middleman

Normally the Middleman prided himself on his fast reaction time. But when Wendy turned to him during a quiet moment in their main control room and held out a truth bomb, all he could do was stare. _What is she trying to find out..._ Then she hit the button, and the energy wave hit them both.

The thought that Wendy had betrayed him didn't last a half-second. The next was, _I gave her the idea, that time at the art gallery._ The Middleman braced himself. The compulsion to speak only truth was unbreakable, but he had the training to be selective about _which_ truth and how much. Wendy might have to frame her questions pretty precisely. Of course, she knew that. _Did you sleep with Roxy Wasserman?_ wouldn't be so bad, or the bare literal answer to _What was your name?_

_Why did you become the Middleman?_ had much more dangerous potential, or _Do you think I'm going to die doing this job?_ Anything with the word 'love' in it he could probably evade. He'd planted phrases like "brothers in arms" and "like a little sister" often enough in the past. _Do you want to have sex with me?_ would get a 'yes' from any heterosexual male with normal eyesight. Maybe he could get away with that too...

"Boss. Exactly how lonely are you?"

Desperate, needy lust wasn't loneliness per se, it could be handled in other ways. He focused on the present-tense verb. For sheer camaraderie, compared to not having her in his life... "It isn't so bad."

She threw the gadget angrily at a wall. "Don't give me that ..." The words kept coming, under an emotional pressure that had to be real as well as bomb-induced. Words that couldn't help being true. His head was spinning too hard to follow it all but she was talking about love, relationships, the impossibility of a true bond with someone when world-saving-sized secrets got in the way.

He thought -- hoped -- he knew why she was telling him this. He didn't dare ask. The truth bomb worked both ways. Any answer he got now would be transparently, even brutally, truthful. "... the Hell can you stand there in the lonely going _not so bad_?" Wendy demanded, almost shouting.

Her tone made him grin like an idiot; Wendy couldn't possibly be that upset about a hypothetical question. "I am telling the truth. I'm not lonely, or not much _..._ I have you now." He was able to stop short of, _being near you on any terms is a thousand times better than nothing._

He'd been able to confuse her when they first met. Now she knew him too well, saw too much. Wendy's expression changed -- affection? Pity? He wouldn't refuse pity ... and her voice went softer. "Then my other question… how tired are you of being perfect hero boss man in charge all the time?"

Not betrayed, but definitely ambushed. His only chance was to run before he blurted out the answer, and his legs weren't listening to him. "God." His voice was too needy, too desperate. She was going to quit on the spot, disgusted or frightened away...

Wendy didn't speak, didn't move. She held out her hand.

The Middleman closed his eyes. This had every chance of ruining their partnership; he could barely imagine any better outcome. But she'd made it physically impossible for either of them to lie. This minute, at least; she wanted him. Even one minute would be something. When he opened them, Wendy's hand was still stretched out. He took it, floating in a near-trance of desire and confusion. _Just once. Please_.

She'd never seen his room before. That reaction certainly _was_ pity, for the way he'd excluded every vestige of a personal life. _Maybe I can't get away with that any more._ Wendy wanted control, and he was happy to give it to her. She was younger than he was, but still a grown woman who had no inhibitions about saying what she did and didn't want. He couldn't go too far wrong if he let her lead.

And she knew him, it seemed, better than he did himself. Being undressed, caressed, letting someone else take charge was a blessed relief from carrying the weight of the world. _Miracle Wendy_. It couldn't be all pity. Her eyes were too bright with excitement. She said something about a work of art and nibbled here and there, giggling at his reactions. He drew her down, one hand on her back and the other buried in her hair. Letting go so she could get their uniform shirts and ties out of the way was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

He hadn't opened a bra one-handed since high school. He hadn't been this painfully, completely, no-blood-supply-left-for-brain-cells erect in nearly as long. He traced Wendy's narrow hipbones with his fingertips and was genuinely afraid of hurting her. "You're so tiny." He should have known that, being Wendy, she'd instantly decide to prove him wrong. He tried to apologize in advance for self-restraint that would clearly be measured in seconds. She wouldn't let him finish the sentence.

She came down on him like an avalanche. He let out a guttural sound that was lost under her squeal. Of delight, going by the yielding, wet warmth. He clutched desperately, pulled her down still harder. Years of meditation and focusing exercises be damned, he was out of time and she couldn't possibly be ready...

Her muscles closed on him like a vise, first on purpose and then in a convulsive, helpless rhythm. Random sounds fell from her lips. Her skin seemed to glow. He'd be content to die watching her, and for an instant he thought he was. Their eyes locked while she was still in ecstasy; seeing that shattered his control completely. He made a small, formless sound. No words, but the world shifted on its axis. He couldn't stop watching her face and he was giving away too much, showing too much. How completely she could own him, for one thing, if she lifted a finger to ask. _She'd held out her hand_.

Wendy snuggled down beside him, made a satisfied noise when his arms went around her. That had to mean something good. She leaned her cheek against his. A drop of moisture, a tear. He had a pretty good idea whose.

He'd do anything Wendy asked of him. He was afraid _let's pretend this didn't happen_ might be first on the list. She certainly cared for him. It didn't follow that she wanted unconditional devotion. The 'just once' resolution had disappeared like snow in a blast furnace. Even in a state of blissful exhaustion his body kept making a dazzling array of suggestions under the heading "next time." His conscience, in counterpoint, presented an equally long list of reasons any liaison would be a disaster. Starting with the fact she already had a boyfriend and continuing to subheadings about age differences, professional conduct, life expectancy, and every character flaw he'd ever found in himself.

He'd told her once that even true love didn't always work out. Using considerable care not to reveal, by tone or expression, which love he meant. This could never be simple. Ignoring his yearning for her had been hard in practice but kept their working relationship stable. If a romance went sour, the aftermath could be anywhere from awkward to intolerable. Whether she realized it or not, in this arena she was the one with all the advantages. Wendy had a name, an art career, a network of friends; she was perfectly capable of walking away from him for good. Technically he ought to threaten her or send her to Greenland if she left the Middle-organization. He never would, and she _did_ know that. If this wrecked them as friends, even as colleagues, then ...

Then she'd be fine. Disappointed probably, maybe lonely. Her friends would flock to cheer her up. Wendy was far too sensible to mope for long. And if she left him, she'd leave the constant danger of their profession as well.

_That's all right, then._ Risking himself, physically or emotionally, was simple. Feeling hope was the disorienting part. He buried his fingers in her hair. The casual touch, the implicit permission to stay pressed against her bare skin, felt more intimate than actual coupling. She deserved every intimacy he could give her. "Dubbie." He swallowed. "Wendy Watson. I should tell you my name."

Her dark eyes had hints of hazel when they were this close, subtle flecks of gold and green. Glowing with an affection that saw his nervousness without judging it. She leaned in, pressed their lips together. "I like nicknames. Gonna call you _mine_."

_I think that's been my real name since the moment we met._ "It's a deal," he said, no flippancy at all. Turned so that his chest and stomach spooned full-length against her back, for the most comfort in the too-narrow bed. She adjusted his arm a little where it wrapped around her waist, then settled in with a contented wriggle. He'd never felt this bonded to a lover, this free of boundaries. Not when he was in the Navy, trying to court a woman and keep secrets from her at the same time. Certainly not ... he shied away from the older memory.

The past could still hurt him, but so much less than before. He couldn't work up the energy to distrust himself with the scented silk of Wendy's hair against his face. She knew so much about him already. He'd never have to lie to her, never have to wall her out of the most important parts of his life. _Maybe I don't have to choose anymore between being The Middleman and being a man._

"It's a deal," he heard her whisper as if answering his thoughts. His eyes had already drifted closed. With Dubbie warming him, heart and body, it was easy to let go and sink into sleep.


	2. Ida

Ida wasn't configured for this kind of crap.

The Organization Too Secret To Know About had put her in this liaison job for a reason. Her default combat software gave her a sort of common ground with the feisty humans who came through here as Middlemen. She could disconnect from HEYDAR and function independently, which had prolonged the lives of several of her meatbags. But that human-like mindset came with some human-like weaknesses, especially that she could only give full attention to one thing at a time.

Ida was in the fourth sub-basement overhauling the core tap when her sensors picked up a truth bomb going off in the main control room. When the perimeters checked out secure, when no other weapons were discharged, she put it down as accidental and kept doing maintenance. She didn't check the internal cameras for almost three-point-two minutes, which was way too late.

305 (xy 2001- ) and 306 (xx, provisional) were standing in the control room almost nose to nose, babbling something about primate pair bonding. Ida swore and keyed the chemical sensors. The airborne pheromone levels were as high as she'd ever recorded, even from 293 (xy 1955-1969) on a Saturday night. Ida shifted visuals to the high ultraviolet spectrum. As she'd expected, provisional 306 was the one with bomb residue all over her hands. _Greedy little tramp_. That was human females all over; they got a whiff of high-quality donor DNA and they went nuts.

Ida started to key the intercom, but behavioral models projected over eighty percent that interrupting them would worsen the ... what was the term ... sexual tension. "Shake it off," she muttered to herself in English. "Tell her you've got a headache." Ida didn't bother to run the numbers on that scenario.

They held hands. Provisional 306 was in the lead, towing 305 along like a child with a bunch of helium balloons. He had at least three times her combat effectiveness, given size and relative training, but he wasn't using it _at all_.

"Freaking brainless hose monster," Ida snarled. She couldn't pin down clear definitions for half the words in the English emotional vocabulary, but at least it had the vocabulary. Swearing in binary was never any relief.

Ida did a quick survey of worldwide satellite coverage. Flash floods in Malaysia, political unrest in South America, a Thamarian incursion in Texas that was going to go extinct from fire ant bites before any humans noticed it. Nothing even close to her red-alert parameters. If she triggered a false alarm, 305 would catch her at it. Even though she had his best interests at heart. Same problem with any other distraction, like a call from 306's mother.

"Damned fool." The worst part was that Ida liked 305. Sometimes she nearly forgot he was a meatbag. At the height of a crisis he could react as fast and as optimally as one of her own kind. While at the same time maintaining the high level of secrecy and low percentage of collateral casualties that O2STK seemed to think was so important.

Keeping each Middleman alive wasn't Ida's top priority. It was their job, and their nature, to go into harm's way. Even if it hadn't been, compared to Ida's own lifespan each meatbag was gone in no time. Keeping them happy wasn't her top priority either. Ida had analyzed all the supposed routes to human happiness, from religion to psychoanalysis to wishful thinking. If the humans couldn't figure out _themselves_ how their minds worked, it was out of her hands.

Her priority had to be the mission. Not just the current one, but all the missions in the future. For that she needed a Middleman at the top of his game, backed up by an apprentice who was just as ready if something fatal happened. Ida would have to let them get this out of their systems. With any luck, the inevitable blowup would send 306 storming off, and they'd get a sensible apprentice. _Sure, he'll be hurt. All the good ones take things hard. They get over it one way or another._

She turned off the video and audio from the boss's bedroom upstairs. All the upstairs levels, just to be safe. She didn't give the proverbial rat's ass herself, but he was sure to check the records later. Ida didn't need the hassle. Let him make a fool of himself in private. The telemetry from the Middlewatches was more information than Ida wanted anyway.

When he was definitely dozing and 306 pretty near it, Ida sneaked a visual. They'd squeezed together into a one-human-sized bed. At least nothing hairy or wobbly was hanging out of the covers. Ida indulged herself with a short text message. _If you hurt him, I'll tear you to pieces._ Hell with the laws of robotics; Ida could find a loophole if she tried hard enough. She'd given the floozy more credit than she deserved already, 'if' instead of 'when.'

"It's a deal," the skinny little skank whispered back. Dammit.

Provisional 306 went home after 1.59 hours of napping and 0.245 of earnest hearts-and-flowers conversation. Ida didn't go near her. She put internal surveillance back up, audio only. Sweet Cylon baby Jesus, he was _singing_ to himself. Ida lowered the volume. Usually 305 had the sense to remember he was practically tone deaf.

Almost afraid to look, Ida overlaid the current incident telemetry data and the little tramp's regular code 86's with the whiny musician. She was definitely getting the good stuff this time. That was bad news two ways. It would make it harder to pry 306 loose and get rid of her. Also if 305 was putting his heart into this, he was certain to go all mopey when 306 left. It didn't take more than a second's hesitation for a Middleman to wind up a death date on the wall.

Not Ida's problem, anyway. Middlemen were like bullets. There to be expended, then you get another one.

The noise was alternating between level seven and sub-storage two now, with large-object-moving sounds. Also the freight elevator. Ida gave in to apelike curiosity and cut in the visuals.

He'd opened up the largest room in the living quarters, a corner suite with lots of windows. It already had several smaller pieces of furniture shoved around at random. Now the Middleman had a king-sized mattress on a furniture dolly. Ida hit the intercom. "Real subtle, Ace. That'll charm her socks off."

The expression of goofy enthusiasm -- Ida's idiom generator yielded _like a ten-year-old discovering Star Wars movies_ \-- faded into something adult and guarded. "I'll come down, Ida. We need to talk," the Middleman said.

"No kidding." Ida cut communications.

The Middleman came down the stairs without a hair out of place; shirt cuffs straight, tie perfectly centered. Ida looked for defensiveness or guilt that would give her a starting point. Strangely enough she couldn't spot any. "It's a big town," she said. "They've got hotel rooms. They've got hookers."

Ida knew her Middleman. That jab made him so angry that he nearly showed it. A muscle tightened in his jaw; he fought back just as dirty. "Alpha priority order. I don't care what you say to me, but she doesn't deserve this. If you can't speak civilly to Dubbie, don't say anything to her at all."

 _Bastard primate_. And, _you used to go days at a time without saying 'me.'_ "It's a bad idea. It's a bad idea, and it's going to rip you up until you walk in front of a bullet without caring."

"That's my decision to make, not yours."

"Oh, do _not_ try to tell me you've thought this through. Not with your primary head anyway."

Instead of getting angrier, he shrugged. "Probably not. But I see the range of possible consequences, and I'm prepared to take the risk. Ida, you could try being happy for us."

"Don't give me _us_. She's always getting wild hairs, remember how she yelled at Sensei Ping? She got a look at the pecs, it made her crazy, she just had to bang you because nobody else could. When the novelty wears off she'll be hanging off music-boy's neck again."

He looked at her without hostility, but without the slightest intention of backing down either. "Ida, you're a person. I never forget that. But sometimes you miss things because you aren't a _human_ person. You need to stay out of this."

"She doesn't love you. And she's not good enough."

He tilted his head to one side and nearly smiled. "Does that come from an objective data algorithm? You're going native on me, Ida."

There had been three hundred just like him, and eventually there would be three hundred more. It was important to keep that in mind. "I have a stake in this because it affects the job," Ida said. _If..._ "When you die in the line of duty, mister, it had better be _necessary_. Not getting your head blown off because you're staring at her tits. I've just got you trained like I like, I don't want to break in another one this soon. And God, not _her_."

The smile got loose. "We've been together a long time, Ida. You're the only family I have. That isn't going to change."

Damn all humans. Always trying to charm their way out of perfectly sensible discussions. "Look me in the eye and tell me this isn't why you hired a chick," Ida said grudgingly.

"It isn't. I know Dubbie's personal style annoys you, but you can't argue with her record. She's already good. With more experience, she's going to be magnificent."

Worry outweighed anger in Ida's central processor. "What if it breaks the other way? You two are still touchy-feely, and she's the one who catches a shot. Are you going to be any use to me after that?"

"Your objectivity is an example to us all, Ida."

"If only. I'm serious."

"I've asked myself that question," he said frankly. "Just thinking about it hurts too much to breathe. But Ida? I felt the same way yesterday, when I'd have sworn there was no chance. I'll feel the same way tomorrow if Dubbie breaks things off. At least this way whoever's left will have something to remember. Don't try to take that away. I don't know how much she needs this. But I know I do."

Ida had seen doomed Middlemen before. Strictly speaking, she'd seen every doomed Middleman there'd ever been. Usually there was a lot more blood and fire, a lot less grinning and puppy-dog eyes. "You are so completely screwed," she remarked.

The grin went lopsided. And wider. "I'll let you know if I have any complaints."


End file.
